Bare Feet
by chromatic.daydream
Summary: Just because the war has defined who they are, doesn't mean it has to define what they will become.


_**Title: Bare Feet  
Author: chromatic.daydream  
Chapter: One of One**_

**_Author's Note: Post-DH, Pre-Epilogue. Just something that's been floating around in my head for, well, forever. I'm trying to get back into writing fiction since my entire life seems to be centered on writing university papers. Many thanks to Jinxy for her beta work._**

…  
Bare feet came to a stop on cool wooden floor, and not for the first time did Hermione wonder just how their lives had gone by so fast.

How in seven years they had grown from a bucktoothed bushy-haired know it all and a scrawny redheaded kid with a dirt spot on his nose to this. To them. To what Hermione figured was destiny.

Her hand rested against the doorframe as a cool breeze blew her nightdress around her legs; someone had left the door open when they had ventured out under the star speckled sky, so only the worn screen door stood in her way, and if it hadn't been for the events of the past two days, Hermione would have been admonishing someone for their carelessness.

But the war was over, it was really over, and all they had left to do was pick up the pieces of what once were their lives and go on.

As if it could really be that simple.

The celebration and revelry hadn't tapered off for the rest of wizarding Britain, but it had never really begun for Hermione. She doubted she would ever celebrate like the rest of Britain; the war had been too personal, too close to her heart, and it remained too fresh in her mind to even consider sitting down to watch the fireworks that nightly exploded in the distance, or sip a bottle of butterbeer.

It remained too fresh in her head to even get a decent night's sleep, and from the figure sitting just down from the house near the vegetable garden, she wasn't the only one.

The screen door snapped shut, as she stepped out from the protective embrace of the house she considered her home, wrapping her arms around her midsection as tentative steps were taken. He gave no indication he had heard her approach as his eyes stayed firmly focused on the distance. If he was focusing on anything at all.

He had grown so much from the boy she had first met on the train; sometimes she wondered if they were even the same person. He turned suddenly to stare at her, the cobalt blue eyes making her smile inwardly; no matter how old Ron got, those eyes would always remind her of that boy on the train that stole her heart.

"Hullo"  
"Hi."

He turned away from her again, but there was an unspoken invitation in his silence, an invitation she felt gently warming her as she rested on the grass, pulling her legs beneath her nightdress. The wind wasn't as strong here, nestled in a tiny valley beside the vegetable garden. Hermione gazed into the distant sky, the stars bringing her mind back several months.

Months? It took her mind back several weeks to sitting watch over the tent and the two men inside, putting herself between them and whomever may come along to find them. She had spent so many hours this past year outside gazing at the stars, willing herself to remember what she had learnt in Astronomy class decades ago. But it hadn't been decades ago, not even half a decade, since she had charted planets and stars once a week in the only homework she couldn't finish weeks in advance. She had never admitted to Harry or Ron, but those nights drove her to near madness as she desperately tired to remember back to what she had learnt in Hogwarts; tears pooling in the corner of her eyes as an overwhelming sense of loss of the knowledge she prided herself on sunk in.

That had, in some ways perhaps, been the thing Hermione hadn't counted on in her preparation for the journey she was took with Harry and Ron. She had known she was going to miss the Hogwarts castle, was going to miss being Head Girl and her classes and curling up in front of the fire with a lovely book. But she could never have imagined how morally debilitating it could be on a day-to-day basis to feel like her brain was slowing down. Certainly, she spent plenty of time worrying, and planning, and attempting to keep their lives somewhat orderly. But it was so unlike Ancient Runes and Transfiguration that it made her crazy.

"We can go back, you know?"

He was starring at her with a sort of determination she wasn't sure how to categorize, red hair blowing gently in his face. It had grown long in the months they had been away and with everything going on, there had been no time to cut hair or pluck eyebrows or even soak away months of grime in a bubble bath.

"Go back?"  
"To Hogwarts. Once it's rebuilt I'm sure McGonagall would have you back in an instant. She'd probably even give you Head Girl if you asked."  
"Ron… I hardly think discussing whether McGonagall would have me back at Hogwarts is important right now…"  
"Hermione, if the future isn't important, what the hell did we fight Voldemort for?"

Her mouth opened to give him a piece of her mind for his language, but Hermione felt herself trailing off to silence as she stared back at Ron. He was looking at her earnestly, almost pleading silently with her to believe in his words; willing her to accept that even though they had laid his brother to rest today, there was something good in this world. She moved, stretching her legs out so that bare toes tickled long grass; her bare legs shone in the moonlight, yet Hermione didn't feel as cold as she should have. Her eyes dropped from Ron's gaze to the grass, fingers running through the soft carpet as she fought to keep her composure.

"Hermione?" his voice implored.  
"How…" she took a gulping breath of air, "How can you even… _think_ about the future when…when… right now it's so painful?"  
"Because the war's defined who we are, but it doesn't need to define what we become."

His voice trickled off, shoulders rotating in a shrug as Ron looked down to the ground, becoming enamored in the grass. In the moonlight, Hermione studied the line of his jaw, eyes moving onto his lips. They were pursed, almost as if he were annoyed at something or someone, and instinctively Hermione reached out to place her hand onto his, trapping it against the grass. It felt like a second, but slowly Ron's hand turned over and his fingers interlaced with hers, his eyes lifting to reach the brunette's.

"It's not fair, Hermione. All we've done is fight this bloody war, you know? But we won. And that's got to count for something, right?"

His eyes searched hers hungrily, and Hermione understood instantly. He was, in his own way, seeking the reassurance he had given her; that there was still good to come in their lives. That the war wouldn't define the rest of their lives. And while when she had stepped out into the yard, Hermione wasn't sure if she had believed their lives could ever really be normal, sitting with Ron gave her faith that one day they would have normalcy.

"It does. And we're going to be all right, Ron. We are."  
"Are you trying to convince me, or you?"  
"Maybe both of us."  
"All right." he nodded.

They sat in silence again, this time their hands intertwined until Hermione let out a noisy yawn, ducking her head in embarrassment.

"Reckon it's time for bed, yeah?"  
"Yeah."

He helped her up, never letting go of his hold on her hand, and for that Hermione was thankful. She ducked under his arm that held the door open, feet tingling against the floor. The house was silent save for the tick of a clock and the creak of the ghoul in the attic as the duo made their way up the stairs on tiptoe.

Hermione turned outside of Ginny's room, tilting her head upwards to look at Ron. He was smiling down at her, a silly grin across his features that made her giggle for the first time in what felt like forever. His finger pressed against her lips quickly, giving her a silencing look as she grimaced and shrugged, throwing a look over her shoulder to the door.

"She's not in there, you know."  
"Then where is she?" he whispered, brow furrowing.

Her lip stung for a second as she bit it, Hermione shrugging again. It wasn't exactly Ron's business where his little sister was. He would figure it out anyways; the red headed female was in fine company.

"Out."  
"I don't care if he is the bloody boy-who-lived, he can't just be waltzing about with my little-"

His finger had slipped from her lips, and Hermione took the opportunity to reach up on her toes to press those lips against Ron's, silencing him for the moment. Where the boldness came from, Hermione wasn't sure, as she broke the contact and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, meeting Ron's gaze.

"We won the war, Ron. Let her snog Harry if she likes."  
"I didn't fight the bloody war so Ginny could snog Harry."  
"But you did it so you could snog me?" she teased.  
"That's about right."

She couldn't admonish him, so Hermione kissed him. Pulling back once again, she took a deep breath and shifted on her feet.

"We're going to get through this, Ron. Just like we always have."  
"Together."

It wasn't a question, and for that Hermione was thankful. There was no doubt in either of them anymore as to what they were, even if there was doubt about what the future was going to be like. Hermione nodded and gave Ron's hand a squeeze, taking a breath. They were going to get through this together, like they had since first year, and nothing was going to change that.

"Together. We're going to have a future, Ron."  
"It's why I fought the war, Hermione."

His lips pecked her cheek; the tall man suddenly shy as her hand dropped and he retreated into the shadows up the staircase. Hermione paused a moment and let herself relax into the afterglow of her evening encounter. Wiggling her bare feet on the floor, the brunette sighed into the darkness.

Maybe thinking about the future wasn't so hard.


End file.
